


Wedding Day Jitters

by MarianneGreenleaf



Series: Building a History Together: Marriage and Children [1]
Category: Music Man - All Media Types, The Music Man (1962), The Music Man - All Media Types, The Music Man - Willson
Genre: At the footbridge, Charming Victorian, Cold Feet, Dancing together, Epilogue jumps ahead, F/M, Fluffy Ending, Light Angst, Morning Cuddles, Music room rendezvous, Parlor passion, Pillow Talk, Sexual Tension, Spooning, Wedding Night, smexytimes, wedding ceremony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-23
Updated: 2012-09-23
Packaged: 2017-11-14 21:59:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/519945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarianneGreenleaf/pseuds/MarianneGreenleaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The wedding day of Harold Hill and Marian Paroo has finally arrived! But an hour and a half before the ceremony, Harold goes missing...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Morning

Marian Paroo grimaced as she caught sight of the weather outside her window. The almanac had predicted fair weather for her wedding day, but the sky was overcast and – as evidenced by the way passerby were hunching beneath their coats and hats as they hurried to their destinations – it was drizzly and cold outside. But that was late November for you!

As Marian contemplated the weather, Mrs. Paroo entered the bedroom. “Oh, good – you’re awake! And how’s my bride-to-be this morning?” she asked with a sunny smile.

“Excited – and nervous,” Marian confessed. She noticed her mother was carrying a tray laden with food. “Breakfast in bed, Mama? I’m getting married, not lying in my sickbed!”

Mrs. Paroo clucked her tongue. “I thought you might say that. But can’t a mother spoil her daughter one last time – before she leaves home forever?” she said in a wistful voice.

“Of course, Mama,” Marian replied earnestly. “I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. And I’ll only be a few streets away – Harold and I will visit you and Winthrop as often as we can.”

“Don’t visit too often!” Mrs. Paroo said with a wink. “I would like to see a few grandchildren before I pass on, you know.”

“Mama!” Marian let out a scandalized laugh. Her wedding day had barely dawned, and already her mother was nagging her about grandchildren! But she couldn’t say she was surprised about this turn of events. Still, Marian deemed it wise to change the subject. “The chrysanthemums are lovely, Mama,” she said, gesturing to the vase of flowers on the breakfast tray. “Are they from the garden?”

“Yes – the very last of the season,” Mrs. Paroo sighed. “And speaking of flowers – if Professor Hill had proposed to you back when he should have, you could have had your pick for your bouquet! As it is, I’m afraid we’ll have to make do with a few wilting sweet peas.”

Marian was too happy to be drawn into an argument, especially about something as silly as the contents of her wedding bouquet. All she could think of was that in three hours, she was going to be Mrs. Harold Hill! “I’m sure it will be lovely,” she said dreamily.

Mrs. Paroo chuckled as she headed to the door. “I’ve seen that look before! Go on and finish your breakfast, and then put on your dress. There are a few last-minute alterations I need to make.”

XXX

As Mrs. Paroo carefully measured the gown’s hems to ensure the length was even all the way around, Marian sneaked glances at her reflection. After all the difficulty she had navigating in the voluminous skirts and tight bodice of her Marie Antoinette gown, Marian had opted for a simple empire-waist wedding gown without much flow or trailing fabric. It was a much less stunning dress than the costume she wore to the Halloween masque, but she thought it suited her better. Or perhaps it was just the glow of happy anticipation in her expression that made everything seem more beautiful.

“Would you mind not fidgeting, dear?” Mrs. Paroo asked. “I can’t get your train to line up straight.”

Marian laughed – quite unconsciously, she had been striking little poses as she stood in front of the mirror. “Sorry, Mama. But as I said before, I don’t know why you insisted on adding a train in the first place.”

“Because I won’t have my daughter looking like a bridesmaid at her own wedding!” Mrs. Paroo said firmly. “And I did include hooks, so it’ll be bustled back for the party later.”

“I know, Mama – I’m only teasing you,” Marian relented. She gazed worriedly at her reflection. “I do hope that Harold won’t be disappointed by my gown. I think I might have set the bar a little high, after Halloween’s creation!”

“Nonsense,” Mrs. Paroo said with a chuckle. “The last thing he’ll be thinking about is how many flounces are in your skirt. Now hold still!”

Marian subsided and gazed out a nearby window. “It’s a shame the weather wouldn’t cooperate – I think it’s going to rain.”

Her mother smiled. “Rain on a wedding day is lucky.”

“Did it rain on your wedding day?” Marian asked skeptically.

“No, it was sunny and gorgeous, without a cloud in the sky,” Mrs. Paroo said nostalgically.

Before Marian could retort, there was a knock at the front door. She glanced at the parlor clock, and then at her mother. “Not Amaryllis, already? The wedding isn’t for an hour and half! And you said her flower-girl dress was completed ages ago.”

Mrs. Paroo looked just as mystified as her daughter. “Stay here,” she said, and went to open the door.

Marcellus Washburn was standing on their front porch. Ethel Toffelmier was with him, a glowering expression on her face.

“Mr. Washburn, Miss Toffelmier!” exclaimed Mrs. Paroo.

“Sorry to bother you, Ma’am,” Marcellus said ruefully. “It’s just – Greg was supposed to meet me at the church a half hour ago, and he never showed. Have you seen him?”

“You mean, Professor Hill?” Mrs. Paroo asked, perplexed. “No, we haven’t seen him.”

Ethel tutted. “See, I told you! Of course he wouldn’t be here – it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before their wedding!”

At this unsettling piece of news, Marian joined her mother at the threshold. “What are you saying, Mr. Washburn?” she asked, trying to keep her voice calm.

Marcellus turned toward her. “Well, me and Gre – I mean, Professor Hill were supposed to meet at the church to go over some last-minute best man stuff,” he said awkwardly. “When he didn’t show, Ethel and I went out looking for him. We checked everywhere – his house, the Candy Kitchen, the library, even the freight depot!”

Marian gasped, and things went hazy for a moment. When she came to, she was in her mother’s arms, and Marcellus and Ethel were looming over her with concerned expressions.

After giving a sigh of relief, Ethel whacked Marcellus on the arm. “What did you have to go and tell her that for?” She turned back to Marian. “There was no sign of Professor Hill at the freight depot, and the man in the ticket window said there was no one matching his description who purchased a train ticket or even entered the station – and he’s been on his shift since six this morning!”

“Thank you, Miss Toffelmier,” Marian said gratefully. But she reflected the situation must be serious, if Ethel Toffelmier was telling someone to keep his mouth shut! And Harold could have taken a train late last night… Marian shook her head. What was she doing, thinking such awful things?

“Harold probably just lost track of the time, Mr. Washburn,” she said with a laugh. “He’s done so before. Ask him to tell you about the time he missed our lunch date on the day of our three-month anniversary!”

Marcellus nodded, but he didn’t look convinced. “We’ll keep looking, then.”

“And we’ll let you know the moment we find him!” Ethel promised.

“Thank you,” Marian said serenely, and closed the door. Then she stood frozen with her hand on the doorknob, too numb to think of what to do next.

“Darling?” Mrs. Paroo ventured after a few moments, putting a hand on her daughter’s arm. “Are you all right?”

Marian forced herself to smile. “I’m fine, Mama. I think I just need some fresh air… yes, fresh air will do the trick.” Before her mother could protest, Marian had opened the door and stepped onto the porch. But she didn’t stop there – she kept going.

“Darling – what are you doing?” Mrs. Paroo asked worriedly.

“I’m going for a walk,” Marian said in an even voice.

“But it looks like rain!” her mother protested.

“Rain on a wedding day is lucky!” Marian retorted, and set off at a brisk pace.

XXX

At first, Marian wasn’t sure where she was going; she just let her feet take her where they would. _Go home, you’re being ridiculous, Harold probably just got sidetracked_ , her mind kept saying over and over. But her body wouldn’t listen, and continued doggedly forward on its path.

And that was how Marian ended up at Harold’s house. She couldn’t say why she had decided to go there – Marcellus had said he wasn’t home, after all – but some instinct told her that’s where she needed to be. As she gazed up at the charming Victorian – complete with a tower – she remembered the day Harold revealed he had bought it. Marian had been thrilled; she had often admired the house when they passed it in their walks together.

But even though Harold had lived in the house for two months, she had only ever seen the inside of it once – Harold gave her, Mama and Winthrop the grand tour back in September. And it was still unfurnished then, so Marian had no idea what the rooms looked like now. In the few occasions she had hinted her family would like another tour, Harold had demurred with promises that he would invite them all for dinner when everything was ready. But here it was, their wedding day, and Marian still hadn’t been to the house for a second visit.

Of course, it wouldn’t have been proper for her to just stop by – like she was doing now. Marian hovered outside the front gate, uncertain. But she couldn’t just stay on the sidewalk. What if someone should walk by and see her?

Boldly, Marian walked up to the door and knocked on it. There was no answer, nor any sound of movement from within. As the seconds stretched to minutes, she tried sneaking a clandestine peek in the nearby windows – only to find they were all covered with thick, opaque curtains. Marian gave a frustrated laugh; Harold certainly guarded his privacy!

She tried knocking again, but there was still no answer. Apparently, Harold _wasn’t_ home. Or perhaps he was hiding. Marian sighed. She couldn’t stand on his front porch forever. But she couldn’t bring herself to leave, either. And why should she? After all, this was soon to be her house, too! Seeing only one way out of this impasse, Marian extended a trembling hand and tried the doorknob.

To her surprise, the front door was unlocked. After casting a quick look around to make sure no one was watching, Marian slipped into the house and closed the door behind her.

XXX

The first thing Marian noticed was how bare Harold’s front parlor was, at least compared to her mother’s. Whereas the Paroo parlor was overflowing with furniture and doilies and knickknacks and pictures, Harold’s was sparsely furnished. A look at the kitchen and dining room revealed the same economy of decoration. Marian supposed this made sense – a former traveling salesman who was used to living light would not be likely to crowd his home with frills and furbelows. But while she also liked simplicity in her surroundings, the place was a bit empty for her tastes. As she continued her circuit of the downstairs, Marian started to envision little additions and improvements.

A loud creak from above brought Marian out of her reverie. She froze and shot an anxious look at the staircase – was Harold home, after all? What would he say if he came down and saw her?

But no one descended the stairs, and a few minutes of careful listening revealed only silence. Concluding the noise was just the house settling, Marian went back to her impromptu tour. She still hadn’t seen the downstairs tower room (she wasn’t brazen enough to go upstairs), and she thought she would take a quick peek before she left.

As Marian passed through the front hall, she was arrested by the sight of herself in the full-length mirror by the door. Tousled hair, anxious eyes, damp wedding dress and wrinkled train – she looked positively insane! Suddenly, Marian had a vision of herself as Miss Havisham, wandering a desolate house in perpetual mourning for her long-lost bridegroom.

“And will you be stopping all the clocks, next?” she sardonically asked her reflection. “Recall, if you will, Marian Paroo, everything that Harold Hill has done for you! He risked being tarred and feathered, he worked for months to plan the most elaborate and romantic proposal ever, he gave up his fraudulent traveling-salesman life to settle down and establish a legitimate business, he told you all about his past history – he even offered to tell you his birth name! And here you are, skulking around his house like a spy because your husband-to-be was late for his appointment with Mr. Washburn!”

_But what if even after all that, he still got cold feet and decided to flee while he had the chance?_ asked that nagging little voice. Marian sighed and turned away from the mirror. Doubt and uncertainty were as insidious as a hydra’s heads: Two grew back for every one that was destroyed.

Marian had to leave this house – she should never have come here in the first place. But before she could take even a single step toward the front door, it opened. A man wearing a dapper suit and bowtie walked in: Harold Hill was home.


	2. Afternoon

Even if there had been any nook or cranny to be found, it was too late to hide. So Marian stood frozen in the hallway, waiting for her shameful intrusion to be discovered.

When Harold spotted her, he almost dropped the parcel he was carrying. “Miss Marian! What are you doing here? You know it’s bad luck for a groom to see his bride before the ceremony – and in her dress, too!” he teased. “Or did we have the wedding already, and I just forgot?”

Embarrassment rendered her speechless – she could only stare at him. Harold’s expression immediately grew concerned. Putting down his parcel on the hall’s only table, he walked over to Marian and took her in his arms. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

“Oh, Harold!” Marian buried her head in his shoulder. “Mr. Washburn came by this morning – he wanted to know if we’d seen you. He said you didn’t show up to the church this morning, and that he’d looked everywhere for you. Then he named all the places he’d looked, and when he said the freight depot, I thought – I thought – ” She trailed off, too overcome to finish.

At first, Harold simply held Marian as the tears flowed down her cheeks. It wasn’t until she had calmed down that he spoke: “I’m going to wring Marcellus Washburn’s neck.”

His statement was so unexpected that Marian burst into shocked laughter. But when she pulled back to look her groom-to-be in the eye, her smile faded. His expression was more than annoyed – it was downright livid. She would have backed away, but his arms were still wrapped around her.

“Yes, I missed another appointment,” Harold said heatedly. “I was delayed a bit this morning – got into an argument with the Wells Fargo driver over the shipping costs of the parcel sitting on that table. He wanted to charge me a fiver – and people thought I was a crook! I am well aware of the fair shipping costs of things – those fellows at Wells Fargo must make half their money on extortion! Luckily, I managed to whittle him down a bit. That’s why I didn’t show up to the church. But you’d think Marcellus would have the sense not to drag you into this mess! Yes, I’m going to wring his neck!”

Harold looked so angry that Marian wouldn’t have put it past him to make good on this threat. “Please don’t do anything rash, darling,” she entreated. “Mr. Washburn didn’t mean any harm, he was just worried. And I was just being foolish. Please, Harold… ”

Harold subsided, but he didn’t reply; he just regarded her with an oddly detached expression. It chilled Marian to see Harold looking at her with such passionless eyes, so she did the one thing that never failed to get a warm response – she kissed him.

But his lips didn’t even twitch.

Disappointed, Marian ended her embrace. “I should be getting home; Mama will be getting worried – ”

Harold caught her hand in his. “There’s something I want to show you, Marian,” he said abruptly. Without even waiting for her consent, he started striding down the hall. She barely had time to lift her train with her free hand, before she was swept along behind him.

Harold came to a halt at the entrance to the downstairs tower room – the very room Marian had been intending to take a peek at earlier. He let go of her hand and opened the door.

Marian gasped. The first time she had seen the large, airy room, she had made an offhand comment that it would be a good place for her to give piano lessons. At the time, Harold just gave her a vague nod, but now she saw he had gone and created the music room of her dreams. Not only was her piano set up in the best possible spot and her sheet music neatly arranged in a nearby bookcase, all the decorations, knickknacks, furniture and even curtains were things she had openly admired during their window-shopping excursions of the past few months.

Overwhelmed, Marian turned back to Harold.

“My wedding present to you,” he said quietly. His expression was still impassive, but the intense emotion in his eyes betrayed the true depth of his feelings. “Paid for out of the proceeds of the band instruments and uniforms – and a few other funds I happened to have squirreled away.”

She still couldn’t speak. But any lingering worries about being jilted at the altar had been put to rest forever – Marian would never doubt Harold’s devotion to her again. She went to throw her arms around him, but checked herself when he held up his hands.

“What is it?” she asked, hurt.

“Forgive me, Miss Marian,” he said politely. “But if I take you in my arms now, I don’t think I’ll be able to let you go.”

Marian could see the longing creeping into Harold’s expression; his dispassionate façade was indeed beginning to crumble. It suddenly struck her that for the first time ever, they were completely alone together. Behind Harold’s closed doors and drape-covered windows, there was no chance of them being interrupted by her mother – or anyone. And she was standing in front of him with mussed hair and a disheveled bridal gown…

“One hour,” Harold said in a low voice, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking.

“One hour,” Marian agreed breathlessly.

XXX

It was still cold and damp when Marian stepped outside, but she was too overjoyed to notice the weather. In fact, she didn’t notice much of anything – not even Mayor Shinn and his wife stopping to greet her when they passed by.

“What’s the matter with her?” Mrs. Shinn asked resentfully as Marian continued on her way without even a friendly nod. “She’s as bad as Professor Hill – he didn’t greet us when we saw him earlier this morning, either!”

“Young people have no manners, these days,” her husband said in a self-righteous voice.

Mrs. Shinn squinted at the librarian’s retreating figure. “And why is Miss Paroo walking around in a wrinkled wedding gown? I thought the ceremony wasn’t until eleven!”

Mayor Shinn shrugged. “Some kind of pre-wedding ritual, I suppose. Who ever knows, with those two?”

XXX

Marian had barely made it to her front porch when the door to the Paroo home flew open. Her mother rushed outside, followed by Marcellus Washburn and Ethel Toffelmier.

“Did you find Professor Hill?” Mrs. Paroo asked anxiously.

“Judging by the look on her face, I’d say she has,” Marcellus quipped. For this remark, he was rewarded with sharp slaps from both Ethel and Mrs. Paroo.

Marian laughed. “Everything’s fine, Mr. Washburn. I met Harold as he was coming home. He said he had been delayed picking up a parcel. If you leave now, you can probably catch him.”

Mrs. Paroo looked torn between relief and worry. “I’m glad you found Professor Hill, darling – but it’s bad luck that you should have seen him, at all!”

As she spoke, the heavens opened up and released a deluge of precipitation.

“Well then, perhaps all this rain will even things out!” Marian said merrily.

But Mrs. Paroo looked horrified. “Saints alive!” she cried, ushering her befuddled daughter inside. “We can’t have you catching cold on your wedding day! I want you to get out of that dress so I can press it, and then I’m going to draw you a hot bath.”

Marian let her mother lead her forward. After all the excitement of the morning, a hot bath sounded wonderful.

Marcellus sighed as he eyed the torrential downpour. “Well, I guess we’ll get going now.”

“Nonsense, Mr. Washburn,” Mrs. Paroo insisted. “Why don’t you and Miss Toffelmier set in the parlor a minute, and I’ll make you a nice cup of tea once I get Marian settled.”

Ethel’s face brightened at Mrs. Paroo’s invitation, but Marcellus shook his head. “We’d love to, Ma’am, but we don’t want to wear out our welcome any more than we already have. See you folks in an hour.” He started toward the door. With a sigh and a farewell, Ethel turned to follow him.

“Wait – at least let me give you an umbrella!” Marian’s mother called after them.

“Why, thank you, Mrs. Paroo!” Ethel said quickly, before Marcellus could turn down this offer as well.

Once Marcellus and Ethel had departed with their umbrella, Mrs. Paroo turned her attention back to Marian, who was sitting by a parlor window and gazing outside. “Come on, me girl, let’s get you into that bath now.”

“One hour,” Marian said dreamily as her mother led her upstairs.

Mrs. Paroo let out an exasperated laugh. “Yes, one hour! I don’t think I’ve ever been so eager to get a wedding over with in my life!”

XXX

Fortunately, the rain had leveled off into a fine mist by the time Marian, Winthrop and Mrs. Paroo left for the church. But they still ended up arriving fifteen minutes past when the ceremony was supposed to begin.

“What if, after everything, Harold thinks I’m the one who got cold feet?” Marian fretted.

Mrs. Paroo gave her daughter’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I’m sure he won’t even notice the time.”

But as soon as Marian caught sight of Harold waiting for her at the altar, he grinned at her and mouthed, “You’re late!”

The rest of ceremony was a blur. Later, Marian would recall only brief snatches of things – a sweet pea falling out of Amaryllis’ hair as the girl walked down the aisle, stumbling over the pronunciation of her own name as she repeated her wedding vows, the ardent look Harold gave her as he slid the gold band on her finger and promised to cherish her “for as long as we both shall live.”

But Marian would always remember the moment between the minister’s pronouncing them man and wife and Harold’s kiss: Her new husband turned to her with shining eyes and said, “Hello, Mrs. Hill.”


	3. Evening

When the bride and groom arrived at the armory for their reception, Marian laid down her bouquet with a relieved sigh. The horseshoe had made it cumbersome to carry, but her mother had insisted on following this Irish tradition. Marian had protested the heirloom “magic handkerchief” was tradition enough, but Mrs. Paroo was adamant that her daughter would have all the good fortune she could muster – she had even made Marian take three spoonfuls of oatmeal and salt that morning, to ward off evil.

But as Marian lowered her bouquet, the horseshoe slipped out and fell to the floor. It landed with a metallic clunk – a jarring reminder of the time Charlie Cowell had dropped his suitcase full of anvils on the sidewalk, so he could pursue her.

Frowning at both the unpleasant memory and her mother’s irrational beliefs, Marian bent down to retrieve the horseshoe. But Harold was quicker, and picked it up before she could get to it. “I wondered why you seemed to struggle a bit with your bouquet,” he said with a bemused smile. He turned the horseshoe over in his hands. “I take it this is some kind of talisman?”

Before she even realized what she was doing, Marian had grabbed the horseshoe from Harold. “You’re always supposed to hold it upside down – lest the luck run out!”

His smile widened. “I never figured you for a superstitious woman, Madam Librarian.”

Marian blushed. “It was Mama’s idea. I thought it was foolish, but apparently she’s a bigger influence on me than I realized,” she said humbly.

“Well then, I guess dancing the Shipoopi is out,” Harold replied, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

She looked curiously at him. “Why should that be?”

“The Irish bride must be sure to keep both feet on the floor when she dances – lest the fairies get the upper hand,” he said gravely.

Marian glanced around to see if Mrs. Paroo was in earshot. “Don’t give Mama any more ideas! Besides, I’m only half Irish – the ‘Iowa stubborn’ part of me gives no credence to such silliness.” With a defiant look at the upside-down horseshoe she was holding, she started to turn it over.

But Harold gently placed a hand over hers. Their eyes met, and Marian saw that all the humor had gone out of his expression. He may have shared her disregard of old wives’ tales and teased her about being superstitious, but he could no more stand to see her flippant dismissal than she could his. As Marian gazed at her husband, she could almost hear him thinking the same thing: _Healthy skepticism is all well and good, but why tempt fate?_

Together, Marian and Harold laid the horseshoe carefully next to her bouquet.

XXX

Upon the conclusion of dinner, Marcellus stood up and called the room to attention. After a quick thank you to Mrs. Paroo for hosting and to the guests for coming, he went right into his toast: “I’m not much for speeches, but when Greg asked me to be his best man, I couldn’t say no. We’d been through so much together – more than would be wise to talk about here.”

Marian and Harold shared an amused grin as the crowd tittered nervously.

Marcellus didn’t let the audience’s reaction rattle him. “But no matter what scrapes we got ourselves into, he was always there beside me. Professor Hill might have been a fraud and a shyster, a conman and a crook, a low-down, dirty, no-good – ”

Harold sharply cleared his throat.

Marcellus changed tack. “Well, he might have been a lot of things, but he was never a coward. No matter how bad things got, he never left his partner behind – even when he could’ve. He’s a true friend, and one of the best men I ever knew.” Marcellus turned to Marian. “And I couldn’t be more pleased that he finally found a gal worth getting busted over. The moment I rounded the corner and saw him hugging you instead of fleeing, I knew it wouldn’t be long before we’d all be standing here together, celebrating your wedding.”

Marian beamed at him, and Marcellus gave her a smile in return before continuing. “Well, now that I’ve said my piece, I’ll end by congratulating you and wishing you both the best of luck. And Greg, if I talked half as well at your wedding as you will at mine, then I’m happy. Thank you.”

At first, the guests eyed each other warily, as if they weren’t sure how they should respond. But Harold and Marian, who were truly touched by Marcellus’ honest and heartfelt speech, put down their glasses and started clapping. Everyone followed the couple’s lead, and soon the room had erupted into thunderous applause. Shouts of “Congratulations!” and “Great speech!” could be heard. Ethel Toffelmier in particular looked impressed; she gazed at her fiancé with dewy-eyed admiration.

Once things had settled down a bit, Marcellus announced that he would be giving the floor to any family or friends who wished to say a few words.

“Are you sure that’s a wise idea?” Marian whispered to her husband as people streamed forward.

Harold grinned. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

But they received only kind wishes for their future happiness. Among the highlights for Marian were Mrs. Paroo’s traditional Irish toast, Tommy’s stirring speech on how much Professor Hill’s mentoring had meant to him and Zaneeta (Mayor Shinn frowned slightly at this, but Mrs. Shinn gave the teen a cordial smile), and Winthrop’s brief but moving expression of joy. Even the school board performed a congratulatory song of their own composing, as their tribute to the newlyweds.

After the last person spoke, Harold stood to address everyone. For a moment, he gazed around the room with a vaguely stunned expression, as if he couldn’t believe so many people thought as highly of him as they did before the truth came out. But when he spoke, it was with his usual silver-tongued ease: “Well, you folks sure are a hard act to follow! I’ve never heard so many eloquent speeches in one day – not even at a political rally. It would take me hours to properly express our gratitude for your generosity and good wishes, but as we’ve only got the armory until eight, I’ll keep things short and sweet: Thank you everyone, and let’s get the dancing underway!”

XXX

The first few dances were too fast and rollicking for conversation, so it wasn’t until a leisurely waltz began playing that Marian turned to her husband with a sly smile. “So, would you say Mr. Washburn has atoned for all the fuss he caused earlier?”

“It was an excellent speech,” Harold conceded. Then he winked at her. “But I still just might wring his neck – I haven’t decided yet.”

“I doubt that will be necessary,” she said with a laugh. “Ethel Toffelmier has probably beaten you to it already – you should have seen the way she was scolding him earlier!”

“Really? To look at them now, you’d never know it,” Harold remarked.

Marian followed his gaze and saw that Miss Toffelmier was nestled quite contentedly in her fiancé’s arms as he guided her around the dance floor. “Why don’t we call it a case of ‘all’s well that ends well,’” she suggested. “I don’t want my husband arrested for attempted murder on his own wedding night!”

She had said this teasingly, but Harold sighed and pulled her closer. “I apologize for frightening you this morning, darling. I never meant to make you worry like that. You have my solemn promise that I’ll make it up to you, if it’s the last thing I ever do!”

“Well,” Marian said softly, “the music room was a good start.”

Harold chuckled. “Yes – so much for surprises! So, how did you like the house?”

“Well, I wasn’t there all that long before you came home,” she said shyly. “I only saw the parlor, kitchen and dining room. They were very nice.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Nice? That’s the word women use when they can’t think of anything, well, nice to say!”

“Well, I was thinking of a few things I’d like to do, here and there,” she admitted. “But nothing too fancy – just to add a woman’s touch.”

Once again, Harold proved how well he knew her. “Why do you think I left the place so unfinished? No sense in spending too much time decorating, if everything has to be changed!” He regarded her with a pensive expression. “But I hope you liked the one room I did put a little effort into.”

“It’s perfect,” Marian said staunchly. “I wouldn’t change a single thing.”

In response, Harold gave her _that_ look again. But instead of asking her to take a stroll with him, as he normally would have done, he pulled her even closer. Marian laid her head on her husband’s shoulder and blissfully contemplated her future as Mrs. Harold Hill.

XXX

After exchanging a bittersweet farewell with Mrs. Paroo and Winthrop, Marian set off with Harold to their new home. They walked quietly and calmly to the charming Victorian – looking to all the world like a fellow and his gal on a casual evening stroll – but she knew from the way he grasped her hand that his thoughts were just as feverish as hers.

But Harold didn’t immediately take her into his arms as soon as the door had closed behind them. Instead, he helped Marian out of her coat and bade her to sit down on the sofa in the parlor while he made her a cup of tea. “I can’t have you catching cold, darling,” he explained at her miffed expression. “Your mother would have my head!”

So Marian waited in the parlor while her husband rustled around in the kitchen. It wasn’t long before Harold returned with a steaming pot and two cups. As they drank, the conversation flowed freely and easily as it always had between them. _And why should it have been otherwise?_ Marian thought. Other than the fact they were now married, nothing had changed.

Well, almost nothing – when Marian and Harold had both finished their tea and set down their cups, their eyes met. Marian felt her breath catch in her throat. This was it; the moment she had been waiting for. It was just her and Harold, alone together in their house on their first night as husband and wife…

At first, Harold leaned in as though he was going to kiss her. But then he seemed to think better of it, and sprang to his feet. “Why don’t I make us a fire? It’s awfully chilly in here!”

It was all Marian could do to prevent herself from reaching out and dragging her husband back to the couch. She was flattered that Harold was being cautious for her sake, but on the other hand – especially after all the ardent kisses he had given her and the veiled remarks he had made – it was also rather annoying!

Perhaps a ladylike hint would reassure him. As Harold busied himself with making a fire, Marian started taking the pins out of her hair.

He turned just in time to see her carefully coifed chignon fall into disheveled ringlets. And just as she had predicted, Harold was spellbound. “Why, Marian!” he said in an amazed voice, as though he couldn’t believe his luck.

“Well,” she said impishly, “since you refuse to show me the upstairs, I find I have nowhere else to let my hair down. I couldn’t stand leaving it up for another minute – ”

But Marian didn’t get any further. In two quick strides, Harold had crossed the room and caught her in his arms. Without preamble, he crushed his lips against hers and kissed her as passionately and unreservedly as he had the night before the Halloween masque.

Marian responded to Harold’s overtures with a fervor that would have shocked her – had she been conscious of it. She was quite deaf and blind to anything but him; all of the pins she had been holding fell to the floor. Later, when Marian hosted a meeting of the Events Committee at her new home, Mrs. Squires and the other ladies would wonder aloud why there were hairpins scattered around the parlor. Only Ethel Washburn, nee Toffelmier, would give Marian an understanding, conspiratorial smile.

But for now, the pins lay completely forgotten as husband and wife embraced, heedless of anything but exploring the new territory that now lie before them. With the chaste inquisitiveness befitting a maid, Marian tentatively slipped her hands inside Harold’s suit-coat and traced the contours of his back and sides. He felt familiar but strange; instead of stiff serge or tweed, all that separated them now was his thin cotton dress shirt, and she could feel every twitch of his muscles and sinews as they responded to her touch.

As for Harold’s hands, they roamed everywhere, caressing her with practiced skill and ease; despite the heavy fabric of her wedding gown, she felt goose bumps rise wherever he touched her. And when one of his hands discovered the curve of her breast, she gasped and stiffened as a sensation more electrifying than anything she had ever experienced coursed through her body. Harold paused, and their eyes met. Wanting him to continue, but not knowing how to ask, Marian simply gazed at him with longing.

With a gentle but self-satisfied smile, Harold resumed his ministrations – this time sliding his hand beneath the low neckline of her bodice. It wasn’t long before Marian began to shiver, and her knees grew weak. As she swayed, he moved with her, and the two of them tumbled onto the couch.

It all happened so smoothly, so seamlessly, that Marian wondered if this had been Harold’s design. But she couldn’t think about such things in too much depth; her attention was wholly occupied by the alluring proximity of her husband. In the past few weeks, she had often felt his long, lean body pressed this closely to hers, but only when they were standing upright. Lying supine beneath Harold was something completely different – and utterly intoxicating.

It was clear that Harold was just as captivated by their new position: Giving Marian the smoldering look that always made her melt, he cupped her cheek in his hand and met her mouth with his. As she reveled in her husband’s ardent kisses, his hand left her cheek and languidly trailed its way down the length of her body. When he passed her hip and ran his fingers along her thigh, Marian’s leg came up to wrap around him so freely and easily it seemed to move almost of its own accord. At this unintentional yet brazen gesture, Harold groaned and pressed insistently against her. Out of pure instinctual need, she pressed back.

It seemed to Marian they could go no further in their present situation, but then Harold’s hand found its way under the hem of her now-disheveled gown. She could feel his fingers tremble as they slipped beneath the silk of her knee-length drawers and traced the curve of her thigh. When they reached the end of her stocking and stroked bare skin at last, she abandoned any pretense of ladylike deportment and let out a genuine, unabashed moan.

Harold immediately withdrew his hand from her thigh, and his lips parted from hers. Without a word, he gently brought her into a sitting position along with him, and then let go of her. Marian was too stunned by his abrupt end of their embrace to do anything but sit there in a perplexed daze and wonder what unseemly breach of etiquette she had committed. Perhaps she had submitted to his embrace too eagerly; perhaps he expected her to demonstrate a little more reticence. But she didn’t know how she could have helped herself; when Harold kissed and touched her the way he did, she had responded to his caresses without conscious thought.

Marian chanced a glance at her husband, and was relieved to see he hadn’t noticed her discomfiture – Harold was staring straight ahead with the same expression of furious concentration he had worn earlier that morning, when he warned her away from his embrace. But just as Marian was starting to relax again, she became aware of the fact that the skirt of her gown was still bundled up around her hips. Quickly, she smoothed it back down over her knees. Her cheeks crimsoned – what must he think of her?

“Harold… ” she began, and fell silent. Hearing the quavering uncertainty in her voice, Marian couldn’t bring herself to continue.

Harold turned to face her, and she was startled to see he looked just as ashamed as she felt. “Forgive me, Marian,” he said ruefully, his breathing still labored, “this isn’t the way I had intended to begin our honeymoon… ”

Suddenly, Marian understood, and her embarrassment disappeared. She even had to suppress a smile; of course Harold had planned this evening as meticulously as he did everything else. But in a moment of weakness, he had behaved like a lovesick teenager and ravished her on the couch. Not that Marian minded this lapse (to be perfectly frank, over the past few weeks she had often dreamed of him embracing her in such a manner). Though she was still a bit apprehensive about what was to come, it was both reassuring and thrilling to know he could be just as helpless in her arms as she was in his.

“Well then, Professor Hill,” she challenged, giving him a sly smile and sidelong glance, “what did you have in mind?”

Her teasing remark had just the effect she hoped; Harold grinned and helped her to her feet. “Allow me to demonstrate, Madam Librarian.”

Marian let out a delighted laugh as he swept her up in his arms and whisked her upstairs to more comfortable surroundings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marcellus’ “gal worth getting busted over” line was inspired by similar dialogue in Kennedy Leigh Morgan’s fanfic “Trouble in River City” (found on fanfiction.net).


	4. Epilogue: Three Weeks Later

Harold Hill hoped the story about his run-in with the Wells Fargo driver over shipping costs was the last lie he’d ever have to tell his wife.

He had gone to pick up a package on the morning of their wedding, but he had nowhere near the difficulty he described to Marian. The reason Harold took so long on his errand was that after receiving his parcel – the final item he had ordered for Marian’s music room – the gravity of the situation fully hit him: Harold Hill, who had always gloried in his independence, was about to irrevocably tie his life to someone else’s.

Instead of going straight home, Harold had set off on an aimless walk as he tried to sort out the disquieting thoughts whirling around in his head. It wasn’t that he didn’t love Marian, it was that – for the first time since he had decided to stay in River City for her sake – he wasn’t certain he was doing the right thing.

Sure, Harold had cheerfully scrimped and saved and worked and planned for this day ever since that fateful night in July. But he also knew that a leopard couldn’t just change its spots. For Harold, the thrill of a relationship had always been the chase. Of course, the culmination of the hunt was always enjoyable, but after things came to their inevitable conclusion, he had always lost interest and moved on to the next pursuit.

At four months and counting, Harold’s “chase” after Marian had been the longest of his life. He wanted Marian more than he had ever wanted any woman, but he wondered if he would feel the same after their wedding night. Perhaps that was why, despite the opportunities that arose, he never took things too far with Marian. At the time, Harold thought he had held back out of a sense of duty to his beloved, but now he had the unpleasant suspicion that he had been motivated chiefly by a desire to stretch out the excitement for as long as he could.

And perhaps he was not so much in love with Marian as he thought – perhaps abject lust was a larger part of his feelings for her than he cared to admit. It wouldn’t be right (and it still astonished him to think of how much he had changed, if he was worried about such things as _right_ and _wrong_ ) to marry her if he was just going to lose interest as soon as they had consummated their union. Better to end things today than leave her the sadder-but-wiser girl tomorrow.

At some point in his musings, Harold became aware that he was standing on the footbridge and staring at his reflection in the creek. He had to laugh – while his mind was in a dither, his heart had been quietly making his decision for him. Right or wrong, there was no way he could ever give up Marian.

Maybe he wasn’t making a mistake, after all. Nothing was certain – that’s what made life so enjoyable and interesting in the first place! Professor Hill was just taking another exciting risk. And who knew? Perhaps he would be pleasantly surprised by the outcome. Bolstered by the return of his usual optimism and confidence, Harold set off for home.

And then, wouldn’t you know it: God, or the universe, or whatever one wanted to call the mysterious cosmic forces that occasionally took pleasure in wreaking havoc in a man’s life, had delivered Marian to him! Here it was, an hour before their wedding, and they were alone together in his house without a chaperone. And Marian had looked deliciously tousled. Harold was struck by the wicked idea that he could find out, right then and there, whether it was worth going through with the wedding. Ironically, it was this that most reassured him he truly loved her – he recoiled at such a repulsive thought.

But Harold reflected that even a man with a purer heart than he would have had difficulty resisting the temptation that had presented itself. A couple who was very much in love and found themselves alone together just before their wedding – it would have been all too easy for things to get carried away. Yet in her innocence, Marian still clung to him, not even realizing the danger they were in. When she kissed Harold, it had taken all his self-control not to respond – a Herculean task, indeed!

But perhaps it was fortunate that Marian had made this unexpected visit. As Harold comforted the woman he loved, he realized he had come too close to making the biggest mistake of his life. He had barely been able to contain his anger: What had he been thinking, mulling over the very notion he knew his beloved had always secretly dreaded, however valiantly she tried to hide her fears? Those damned pesky wedding-day jitters almost ruined everything!

Still, Harold was grateful for the little smack to his conscience. When he stood at the altar and exchanged vows with his dear librarian, there were no nasty, lingering doubts in the back of his mind. Marriage to Marian was a risk he would freely and gladly take. Even if his fervor dimmed, that would be okay, too. The two of them enjoyed a wonderful friendship, and they understood and respected each other. Not a bad foundation for a life-long partnership at all! And Harold resolved never to swerve in his efforts to make Marian happy. It was the least he could do for her, after everything she had done for him. If it required him to sacrifice a little excitement, then so be it.

And now, three weeks after they had married, Harold was just as enamored of his wife as he had been on their wedding day. During their first wonderful night together, he discovered that he had barely scratched the surface of his desire for Marian. Whenever he looked at his wife, he still felt the same excitement and anticipation. And since it was no longer accompanied by the constant frustration of unfulfilled longing, life had become much more pleasant. They no longer had to steal off to the footbridge for a few clandestine moments of romance – though they still occasionally liked to go there for sentimental reasons.

As his wife slept contentedly in his arms, Harold could also admit – as strange a concern as it was for a man of his experience – he had been a bit nervous that Marian would find their intimacy unsatisfying. But judging from the small, secret smile that often curved her kissable lips these days, they were having no trouble on that score.

As Harold gazed fondly at his wife, she stirred and awoke.

“Good morning,” Marian said shyly when her eyes met his.

It amazed and charmed Harold that after three weeks of sharing a bed together, she still blushed to wake next to him. “Good morning, Mrs. Hill,” he said in the low, velvety voice that never failed to mesmerize her.

But Marian only gave him a brief kiss before moving out of his embrace.

Harold caught her hand before she could get up. “Say, where are you going in such a rush on this cold and snowy Saturday morning?” he asked, disappointed.

“We promised to visit Mama for lunch today, remember?” she reminded him with an exasperated smile.

Harold glanced at the clock on his bedside table. “Well, that’s not for an hour yet! Come back to bed, darling.”

As he tugged insistently on her arm, Marian laughed and swatted at him with her free hand. “You’re incorrigible, Harold! If we don’t get up now, we’ll be late!”

“I think your mother will understand,” he said, pulling her back into his arms.

“And we’ve shamefully neglected our Christmas chores and errands… ” Marian went on. But she snuggled into his embrace.

“Then we should have waited until after Christmas to get married,” Harold said playfully. Before she could retort, he leaned in and gave her a long, slow kiss. “Now, what’s that you were saying, my dear little librarian?” he asked when their lips had parted.

“Saying?” Marian echoed, gazing dreamily at him.

Harold grinned and leaned in for another kiss.


End file.
